


Whiskey and Gunpowder

by thegreatchengis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 19:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatchengis/pseuds/thegreatchengis
Summary: It takes a while for Lexa and Clarke to confess their feelings but one thing is for certain, they fell in love at first sight and nothing, not even a close brush with death was going to tear them apart.





	Whiskey and Gunpowder

They meet at a bar, broken hearted and intoxicated.

Clarke is swaying drunkenly to the music. What catches Lexa’s eye is not that this blonde is slow dancing to a rock song, it’s the perfect rhythm in her limbs and how gracefully it moves. How somehow this woman can mould the most improbable song to her dancing. Her palms feel clammy all of a sudden; she’s envious, she’s intrigued but most of all she’s turned on beyond belief. She’s not even staring at her cleavage (though she will admit she spent some time staring), she’s just gaping at her face, wondering what the colour of her eyes are. Her luscious blonde locks are flowing and she briefly wonders if she’s in some kind of shampoo commercial. No one should be that graceful in that state. Is she even sweating?

Lexa gulps and motions for another drink. In any other night she would have gone for it. But tonight she finds herself drained. She’s thinking about Costia. Her tear stricken face and her nails digging into her hand as she took her last breath. To drown away yet another drunken night with a nameless face would be a dishonour to her memory. No, she’d rather get blackout drunk and wake up with a bad hangover than find an inconspicuous way of slipping out of a stranger’s apartment.

Fate however never particularly took to Lexa’s wishes.   

The blonde flops down next to her and Lexa almost laughs at how clumsy it looks compared to her whole dance routine.

“Shot of Jameson.” She slurs.

The bartender hands Lexa her own shot and raises an eyebrow to consider the blonde.

“Last one of the night Clarke.” He says and hands her a shot.

Lexa watches Clarke pout and holy fuck that is endearing. Clarke catches her staring and breaks out into a grin.

“Whatcha having?” she asks.

“Same as you.” Lexa mumbles.

“Take it together on three?”

Lexa just nods wordlessly. Her voice is so smooth like silk and somehow husky, lidden with innuendo. At this point her hands are so sweaty it’s a wonder she can even pick up her shot. She chalks it up to nerves because of Costia, because she’s never been this much of a wreck around women. In fact she considers herself a bit of a prodigy when it comes to picking them up.

“3, 2, 1.”

They down the shot together. Clarke is still grinning at her until she suddenly remembers that it was her last of the night and brings out that adorable pout again. Lexa finds herself swooning. Actually fucking _swooning._

“Can't believe he cut me off. I’m not even that drunk.”

Every logical cell in Lexa’s body is telling her to take another shot, go home and jack her frustrations off, instead she finds herself blurting out, “there’s another bar nearby we can go to. If you’re actually not that drunk, should be easy to prove right?”

Clarke beams and Lexa wants to spend the rest of her life tracing the laugh lines on her face. Preferably with her lips.

And that is the last thing she remembers.

She wakes up the next day with a throbbing headache and a mouthful of blonde hair. Clarke is more beautiful than she remembers, here with the sunlight pouring through the blinds, she looks like she has a halo. And that thought terrifies Lexa more than anything. She has never fallen this hard for a one night stand. She blamed the drinks last night but now she’s sober and she has no excuse whatsoever. So she clambers out of the bed and realizes with a startle that this is her own apartment. It’s another broken rule and perhaps the worst one.

She has no idea how to get out of this one. She hears Anya’s exasperated but mildly amused voice in her head telling her to ‘woman up and face her bullshit.’ For once her best friend is right. Another voice reminds her that her best friend is always right much to her dismay and she pushes that one aside. She doesn’t want to admit defeat any more than she already has.

So she brushes her teeth and makes breakfast. She is too busy drowning her sorrows with a cup of black coffee so bitter it should be illegal when Clarke comes out of the bedroom with a blanket wrapped around her and a wide eyed deer caught in the headlights look Lexa suspects she too had upon waking up. For a moment they just stare at each other. Lexa sees Clarke’s eyes taking in her body and she feels a blush creeping in and a little stupid because she somehow remembers every curve of Clarke’s body and this sentiment doesn’t seem to be reciprocated. Mostly Lexa has no clue what to say because she cannot for the life of her remember when she last came face to face with a one night stand in the morning. Isn’t that the whole point of one _night_ stands? Why does there have to be a morning interaction?

Finally she decides to clear her throat and ‘woman up.’

“Um… Hey Clarke right?”

Clarke looks shocked that she remembers her name for a split second before nodding slowly. “Yeah… Alex?”

Lexa feels her heart shatter and she has no idea why (she has a fleeting suspicion but it is promptly shoved in the deepest recesses of her mind). She manages a shaky chuckle. “Close. Lexa.”

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this bad. I took it too far last night. I can barely remember a thing.” To her credit Clarke actually does look genuinely sorry and it sets Lexa’s mind somewhat at ease.

“It’s okay. I don’t remember anything either. Except your name it seems.”

“More than me.” Clarke mumbles.

Lexa smiles. “Do you uh want some coffee?”

“I’m sorry I should actually head out. I’m really sorry it’s just I-”

Lexa takes pity and cuts her off with a gentle smile. “Clarke it’s okay. I understand. Do you need any help getting home?”

“No no it’s fine. I’ll just uber. I just-” Clarke pauses and turns beet red. “I can't seem to find any of my clothes.”

Lexa feels her throat dry up because that is technically the first time they have acknowledged the fact that they’ve slept together. Not to mention a pang of guilt that she can't remember tracing those laughter lines with her lips properly because she _really_ wanted to do that.

“Right, I found them near the hallway, it’s on the couch there.” Lexa points at the couch next to the breakfast bar and Clarke huffs a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank fuck I thought I left them on the street or something.”

“Last night was apparently wild but not that wild it would seem.” Lexa remarks wryly and Clarke chuckles.

When Clarke finishes dressing and finally leaves they do an awkward half wave at the door and Lexa feels equal parts relieved and heartbroken. She’s thankful it’s her day off because there’s no way she could ever concentrate on her job like this.

She spends the rest of the day counting down the hours till it’s a respectable time to show up at the bar. She sits at the corner nursing some scotch and ignoring her cell phone. She wants to devote the day to Costia’s memory. Properly this time. She drinks solemnly, staring at the bottom of her glass until a familiar haze of blonde sits at her booth and chuckles.

“Fancy seeing you here again.” Clarke says. She seems tipsy again and this time Lexa finds herself wondering what Clarke is forgetting here in this dinghy bar with bad 80s music.

And that starts off a chain reaction of events that spirals out of Lexa’s control. They don’t jot down each other’s numbers. No there’s an unspoken agreement that it will happen every time they see each other. They find themselves in the bar every Friday and Saturday night. Lexa usually arrives first and Clarke joins the booth around an hour later, already half drunk. They take a couple of shots and wake up the next day in Lexa’s apartment. They never remember the whole story. Only brief kisses and touches. The reminder is always there in the morning staring at them in the mirror in the form of angry scratches and hickeys.

…

It’s two months later that Clarke finds Lexa surprisingly sober on a Friday night.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Clarke says. It’s become their secret greeting. A way of telling the other that ‘yes I am on to fuck you silly tonight and not remember in the morning’.

Lexa chuckles. “Hey Clarke.”

“I don’t want to pressure you or anything but you look sober. Too sober.”

“That’s cause I’m here on my break. I uh wanted to talk to you. I didn’t know how else contact you.”

“Oh. What’s up? We don’t always have to meet every weekend I would have understood if you didn’t show up cause of work.”

“I know. I just. I got promoted to detective. My hours have changed so I won't be free on the weekends anymore.” Lexa swallows audibly. She had spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to get her routine reverted to how it was originally just for Clarke but to no avail.

“Oh.” Clarke looks disappointed and she bites her lips. Lexa considers the possibility that perhaps Clarke is more invested in this weird relationship of theirs more than she had let on. “So when are you free nowadays? Wait I’m being a dick, congratulations! I would have paid for your next drink if you weren’t on the job!”

“Thank you, it means a lot. I’m free on Tuesdays and Wednesdays from now on. I don’t suppose you are too?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Hospital duty, you know how it is.”

Lexa nods slowly, all hope extinguishing by the second. She had considered some chance. Some way of retaining Clarke’s attention in any way shape or form possible. But it’s looking increasingly impossible and damned if it doesn’t leave a Clarke shaped hole in her heart. She hasn’t felt this way about someone since Costia. And hell it took 10 dates before she actually fell for her. And she hasn’t even been on a single date yet with Clarke.

When they say goodbye that day they actually hug. It feels so alien to Lexa even though she has fucked Clarke every weekend for the past two months. Her arms feel so warm, so right she never wants to let go. They linger for what seems like hours, unspoken words dancing on their lips, daring the other to break first. But they are too prideful, too broken. Instead they bite their lips and turn away at the same time. It’s that awkward half goodbye wave all over again and Lexa almost lurches her shitty fast food lunch onto the sidewalk outside the bar.

…

Lexa finishes the year with more forgotten conquests and empty bottles than she can ever remember. She throws herself into her job and she finds herself falling into the pit even deeper than before. But she can't stop. She can never stop. Every time she closes her eyes she thinks of Costia’s brown eyes boring into her own; bloodshot and barely open. The way her breath hitched as she tried to take in some oxygen into her punctured lungs. Her half broken sobs and declamations of love. Marriage. Kids. She thinks of the indents Costia’s nails made into her hands as she expelled her last breath. She thinks of the grip of her hands. Slowly tethering away, losing its strength as she lost her life. And every time she thinks of Costia the harder she falls into her work. Punishing herself for something that was never her fault to begin with. Anya tries to loosen her up from time to time but gives up by the time the New Year rolls around.

She hasn’t gone back to the bar. Not since that day. It’s too full of memories. Which she finds funny because she can barely remember her nights with Clarke. But even that minuscule déjà vu is much too painful. Now she drinks at home; alone and cold. When she needs a fuck it’s through shady dating apps.

She tries not to think about Clarke. But late at night when she’s lying next to some blonde with familiar yet unfamiliar blue eyes she thinks of Clarke too much. So much that it hurts and she wakes up her nameless lover and fucks away the hurt all over again.

It’s always Costia or Clarke. Lexa feels too much. Too hard. Her foster parents would laugh at her now. They always told her love was a weakness and yet here she is loving too much. She always was a failure.

…

The next time she sees Clarke she barely sees her at all. It’s in the hospital and she has tubes in her arms and a giant bandage on her gut. She groans and peeks an eye open and suddenly her heart rate monitor goes wildly out of control.

She’s looking into blue eyes and she can barely catch her breath. It’s Clarke. It’s Clarke in her hospital scrubs with dried blood splotches on the side and yet somehow she looks radiant. Before she passes out again Lexa wonders if it was a dream.

If it was a sign.

There’s no familiar blue eyes when she wakes up again. It’s just the white ceiling of the hospital. Lexa groans and tries to remember how she managed to end up here. She remembers a man with a gun and a blinding flash of pain. And then blue eyes. Clarke. She groans again. In that brief moment of weakness she decides to find Clarke somehow and ask her on a date. She owes the effort to her half dead self after all.

She spends the next couple of days drifting in and out of sleep but one promise remains: Clarke. When she sees the blonde again properly she is actually awake and well. Clarke is busy checking the monitors and writing on her clipboard when Lexa spies her and grins.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Clarke snorts, deliciously unattractive but lighting a fire in every part of Lexa.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” Clarke says quietly.

Lexa has a hundred things to say. Hundred ways to set Clarke at ease but she doesn’t because there’s that stupid pride again, instead she says “well here I am.”

“You always have to be so smooth don’t you?”

“Don’t know any other way to be.”

“I’d ask how you are feeling but you seem fine to me.” Clarke rolls her eyes but there’s a hidden mirth shining in them.

“When can I expect to get out?”

“If you keep on this upwards trajectory then hopefully by the end of this week.”

“And here I was getting used to waking up to you again.”

Clarke laughs and brushes some errant hair behind her ears with a flustered expression. She bites her lips and looks at Lexa intensely for a couple of seconds and Lexa feels the air leaving her lungs. She can sense the moment slipping away and can't help but blurt it out.

“Do you want to come on a date with me?”

Lexa wanted to do it with flowers. She wanted to be dressed in something that doesn’t show her bare ass (though she knows Clarke doesn’t mind that part). She wanted to be chivalrous. Woo her saviour the way she deserves it.

But Clarke is beaming at her again and she knows the picture perfect proposal doesn’t matter anymore. Clarke is leaning down to place a chaste peck on her lips and Lexa knows she will have an infinite more chances to treat her like a princess.

“No fair.” Clarke mumbles against her lips. “I was about to ask you.”

“You can ask me to the next one.” Lexa captures her lips again and slithers a hand to bring her closer by the scruff of her neck. It feels like their first kiss and in a way it is. Lexa wonders how she survived 4 months without Clarke’s soft lips on hers. She wonders why she wasted two months doing it wasted out of her mind. She admonishes herself for never giving Clarke the effort, the loving she truly deserves.

“I’m still your doctor so this will have to wait.” Clarke puts a gentle hand on her chest and pushes her back down. Lexa pouts and Clarke laughs.

“Just a week and we can make out like teenagers. Don’t be a baby.”

“Oh I will do more than make out.” Lexa growls.

“A lady doesn’t put out before at least the third date.”

“Good thing you’re not a lady.”

“Oh detective Woods trust me when I say you will have to put the work in to get into these pants again. Especially after that comment.”

…

Lexa does put in the work. She takes Clarke to an exclusive art exhibition and treats her to a 5 star meal. Clarke almost tears up because she doesn’t even know how Lexa remembers her hobby when all they ever really did was fuck. Lexa takes her home and kisses her goodnight. When she turns around to leave, Clarke rolls her eyes and grabs her by the arm.

“You didn’t really think I was serious before right?” Clarke says.

“I-” Lexa’s eyes widen and she shifts in her spot. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Lexa, come up and fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They don’t fuck. Not really. No this feels like the first time they’ve touched intimately. It’s making love and they both know it in the back of their minds. Every time it pops up they kiss and nip harder before soothing away the bruise with their tongue. Lexa touches Clarke like she’s the last angel on Earth. She takes her time memorizing every part, trailing every scar and ounce of skin on Clarke’s body. She wanted to do this since she saw her slow dancing to a rock song. She kisses Clarke until the blonde is shuddering and her lips are sore. Then she takes her, slowly still but with enough of a force to send Clarke arching up and gasping wordlessly. Clarke can't speak for a while, she’s too busy trying to get her brain in working order. She rolls her eyes at the smug grin on Lexa’s face and proceeds to fuck her so hard that Lexa almost passes out. They spend the night trying to outdo the other. It’s the best sex they’ve ever had. And Lexa realizes she wants Clarke to be the last. No one has ever touched or loved her like this. At least not since Costia.

…

It’s difficult to find the time between their schedules but they make it work. They become official after two more dates although it was painfully obvious since before the first. They spend the every bit of their miniscule free time together before their friends call an intervention and demand to meet.

Clarke meets Lexa’s friends first. Anya and Gustus are the closest from the team at the precinct. They are icy at first but Clarke understands their reservations. The rest of the team join them in the bar for a round too many of shots.  When they all leave and it’s just the four of them, Lexa excuses herself to go to the bathroom and Clarke braces herself for what she knows is coming.

‘Hurt her and you’re dead.’ They say in less polite words.

‘Never.’ Clarke promises until they finally raise their beers in acknowledgment. It takes a couple more nights, a couple hundred shots on Clarke’s part until they welcome her with open arms. She finally becomes part of the family.

…

Then it is Clarke’s turn and Raven and Octavia spend a whole night detailing her most embarrassing moments to Lexa, complete with incriminating pictures. Clarke is sitting next to her groaning and whining into her neck. Lexa glances at her from time to time and grins. By the time they leave Clarke is bright red and her mouth is in a permanent pout. Lexa holds her chin and looks into her eyes with a bright smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can't believe they told you all that. This is why I keep my partners away from those two.”

“You don’t think they actually scared me right?”

Clarke shrugs and Lexa’s heart breaks. It’s not the stories Lexa realizes. This is the biggest step Clarke has taken since Finn and even though they both know Lexa is nothing like Finn it is still terrifying for the blonde. Lexa feels like it is time.

She kisses the tip of Clarke’s nose, over her eyes and on her forehead. She kisses her cheeks before finally landing on her plump lips. She lingers until their lungs are begging for mercy.

Then she whispers, “I love you. I’m here for the long haul and I will be by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

Clarke is crying and smiling, she buries her face into Lexa’s chest and hugs her tight.

“I love you too. So much.”

…

Lexa gives pieces of herself to Clarke slowly but steadily. It takes a lot of unravelling. A lot of sleepless nights and drunken mishaps. Some nights she starts but she chokes up and can't speak anymore. So Clarke kisses her and tucks her into bed, saying:

“I’m here baby. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

One day finally, Lexa takes her to Costia’s grave. Clarke puts dahlias, Costia’s favourite on the grave and Lexa tears up.

Lexa shows her the old house she used to live in before she managed to get out of the system. They peer at the windows and sees a glimpse of Titus. Lexa turns pale and Clarke holds her till she calms down.

Lexa tells her about the children. The women. The men. People she’s seen on the streets bruised, battered, dying, dead. Clarke understands because she’s seen the same in the hospital. They give each other space after a hard day’s work. They know how to help the other deal with it.

Some nights they fall asleep in each other’s arms with bloodshot eyes. Some nights they don’t sleep at all. They fuck until they’re too sore to even go to the bathroom. Some nights they drink a little too much. Some nights they don’t talk at all.

But in the mornings they always kiss goodbye and watch the other leave with a bashful smile on their face.

…

Clarke asks Lexa to marry her 3 years after their first date. They go hiking and stay at a cabin in the woods. It’s in the morning that she finally blurts it out. Clarke is sitting on the balcony sipping coffee and watching Lexa cut wood for the fire. It feels so domestic, so wonderful, Clarke doesn’t even realize her mouth is open until Lexa grins at her and flexes. Clarke laughs and realizes in that moment that she could spend the rest of her life watching Lexa cut wood. It’s not that she’s ogling her girlfriend (she is, kind of) it’s just that she feels so peaceful with Lexa. Lexa completes her in ways she didn’t even know possible.

At her dad’s funeral, the priest said, “at the end of the day we leave the world as we are born into it; alone. Our only presence is the love of our Father.” The words had cut her deeper than anything else and she resigned herself to a life alone. But she knows now as she’s looking into the deep forests in Lexa’s eyes that the priest was wrong. She will not die alone because she will carry a piece of Lexa’s heart with her forever. She will never be alone because Lexa will always be with her; physically or not it doesn’t matter.  

“Will you marry me?” she whispers so quietly she’s not sure Lexa heard her.

But she did. She freezes mid strike and the axe falls with a thud. She’s staring at Clarke with wide eyes and Clarke thinks she’s fucked up. It’s too early.

Lexa takes a step forward and reaches into her jacket. She takes out a little box and falls to her knee.

“You finally beat me to it.” She says. “But yes. A thousand times yes.”

Clarke jumps out of her seat and launches herself into Lexa. They fall on the ground together in a tangle of limbs.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

They don’t know who’s saying it anymore. They’re breathless and happy.

And fucking _engaged._

“You always ruin my romantic plans Clarke.” Lexa complains in between kisses.

“Are you complaining cause I can take it back.”

“The takeback limit was four yesses ago.”

…

They get married in the spring. It’s a quiet affair but the people they love are there and that’s all that matters (though to be honest they would have been content getting married in a sweaty cramped registry office). Even Abby who took a while to warm up to Lexa is beaming at the married couple. They dance until their feet hurt and stuff their faces with cake. Clarke smothers Lexa’s face with it and Lexa kisses her so hard she ends up with more cream on her face than the brunette.

They take a honeymoon to the same cabin in the woods. Lexa carries her in bridal style and hits Clarke’s head on the door. Lexa spends 5 minutes apologizing before Clarke rolls her eyes and tugs Lexa down on top of her. They spend the week completely naked and tangled up in each other. They only leave the bed when Lexa’s grumbling stomach interrupts their umpteenth round.

…

They buy a nice house and cut back on their hours. They even buy that cabin in the woods. It becomes their getaway. Their home away from home.

When they adopt two kids, Lexa spends the nights lying awake wondering if she will ever be good enough to be a parent. How could she be when she doesn’t even know what a good parent looks like? Clarke doesn’t push. She picks up her wife when she falls but let’s Lexa come to terms with it on her own. She’s learnt long ago that Lexa needs her own space to deal with intrusions, as welcome as they are.

It takes her a couple of months but she comes out of her shell and the kids love her more than anything. She’s the mom who spends the whole weekend playing catch and Clarke is the one who bandages up their scraped knees with a stern but secretly amused expression. Lexa is the one who helps with PE and extracurricular activities while Clarke stays up till 10 teaching them maths. Lexa watches them from the corner of the kitchen with a content smile and makes them hot chocolate. Clarke scolds her for giving them sweets in the middle of the night but can't help but ask for a second mug.  

Lexa’s the mom who scowls at prospective partners while Clarke swats her arm gently. She knows Lexa’s all bark and no bite because she begrudgingly accepts their new son and daughter in laws when she sees the awestruck lovesick smile in their children’s faces, not unlike her own when she first met Clarke.

…

Lexa passes away first. Her body is too run down by alcohol and bad injuries. She dies peacefully surrounded by her children and grandchildren. And of course her tearful wife.

Clarke is old. She has wrinkles and her blonde hair has been replaced by a regal grey. Her bones are weak and sometimes she has trouble getting up. But she grasps Lexa’s hand with so much strength Lexa thinks she’s holding the 28 year old Clarke again.

For a moment Lexa thinks of Costia. She hasn’t thought of her first love in years. The wound doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. Clarke has fixed that. She even thinks of her family. Titus and Nia. But then she realizes that was never her family. Her family is here now, looking at her like she’s the light of their lives.

So Lexa smiles and allows a tear to run down her cheek.

She looks at Clarke and says, “in this life and the next I will always find my way to you. I love you Clarke Griffin-Woods.”

The last thing she remembers is the blue eyes of her soulmate, a blinding flash of white and an all-encompassing feeling of utter peace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that. I haven't written anything in ages but these two have gotten me interested in writing again. I wanted to write a short story detailing their relationship. I don't know if I should expand on this particular universe or start characters from scratch for my next story. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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